


A Favor or Two

by Sirca



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 19:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12394656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirca/pseuds/Sirca
Summary: “Magician,” he said, his voice distorted. Some part of them noted that the goat's face he wore didn't move with the words. “Dear, dear magician.”





	A Favor or Two

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes made here are purely my own.

The Count descended the staircase like a saint dressed in fine, unblemished whites. The truth is closer to a devil, or a spirit of vengeance if the stories of his youth are anything to be believed. The Magician strained against the brightness of it all.

They'd been summoned, as so many others had. Count Lucio wanted (no, they amended,  _needed_ ) those with the greatest ability in Vesuvia and beyond had to offer. No one dared tell him no—his favor could go far, but his wrath could reach even farther. His heels clicked against the fine stonework as he reached the bottom, his loyal hounds flanking him like well-armed bodyguards.

The Magician stood resolutely, hands curled loosely at their sides. Just like the hounds, they were certain Lucio could sense their fear and unease at being summoned. He grinned toothily, the lines of dark kohl under his eyes crinkling.

Perhaps he'd already realized, caught their scent, and would force them to run through the maze of a garden like a hare in the hunt. Perhaps he'd take mercy and spare them. Perhaps he'd let the hounds have their fill of flesh.

Count Lucio made a show of looking them over, his thin lips pursing as if finding them wanting. No hunt today, it seemed.

“The Magician, I presume,” he said, his pale gaze lingering on their face. “Finally. This arm has been such a hassle.”

“Count Lucio,” they responded with equal parts fear and awe. The bow they offered was deep, and he didn't clear his throat to allow them to rise until their back and knees had ached from the movement.

“I want this done as soon as possible. Follow me.”

He turned to lead them through his home. Glorious paintings lined the walls, all depicting one subject. Count Lucio in various poses, all of them turning his features into something graceful and noble. The lines of age and war didn't grace his face. The Magician focused instead on the fur-lined cloak and their entourage of hounds. They had a job to do, not admire the (terrible, tasteless) art.

Eventually, he took them to an out of the way room. It looked as though it had once been a sitting room, converted into an alchemy lab. They'd heard that the Count had hired the best and brightest to construct something special for him. The golden arm meant to replace the one he'd lost on the battlefield.  


It stretched across the table morbidly. Count Lucio ran his fingers across it like a lover's caress regardless. The Magician knew why they'd been summoned. Their mastery of the arcane could do what an alchemist could not, despite the beautiful craftsmanship. The Count would settle for nothing less than absolute perfection. The golden arm would have to move as if it were the real thing.

The dogs sat on opposite sides, tongues lolling from their mouth to show off sharp teeth. The Magician also knew what had happened to the alchemist who'd worked here before them. People who disappoint did not tend to last long in the palace.

  
“Magician,” he purred, still looking at the lifeless hunk of metal. “Do a favor for me.”

  
“I will, Count,” they responded, bowing deeply again. They rose that time without waiting. Count Lucio wasn't focused on them anyways.

  
He nodded, an acknowledgment, before glancing at the dogs. “Mercedes. Melchior. Come now... let's not distract our guest.”

  
With that, he left them alone with the difficult task and a lingering fear of what the future may hold.

 

***

 

A week passed by faster than the Magician realized. The arm still remained stubborn, only heeding a few simple commands before falling inert. Despite their magical prowess, enchanting such an object would take time. And Count Lucio wasn't known for his patience.

He loomed in the foreground of their thoughts and space on a daily basis before something else captured his attention. Though they feared failure and what it meant, the progress was undeniable. They could complete the task.

It took some of the fear away from the Count. The Magician was quiet, observant, someone who was unimportant enough to speak openly in front of. The animals of the palace were barely held in check by a staff at wit's end. Count Lucio loved to collect things that signified his status and power. Then, he'd foist their care off onto someone else.

They learned that the Count and Countess slept in separate wings of the house. They learned that the Consul slipped into the Count's room after most everyone else had gone to sleep. They learned that the Countess, for all her pride, didn't seem to care.

She would slip into the gardens with her tea. The Magician, on their way back from a quick lunch from the kitchen, caught sight of her. She seemed... sad. Distant. As if her heart were somewhere else.

Not that it was any of the Magician's business. The arm was their only concern.

Mercedes and Melchior had made a habit of curling around their feet while Count Lucio went through his daily routine without them. The Magician had made a habit to reward their good behavior with pieces of pomegranate smuggled from the kitchen—a bit of training that the good Count had been lacking to give them.

As they kicked off a sandal to scratch behind one of the dog's ears with their toe, the fingers curled with it. They moved their arm, and the golden appendage followed suit. Delighted, the Magician lowered their hand and willed it to move. The arm flopped like a fish trapped on land before clenching into a tight fist.

They would need more time to make sure it worked fluidly for the Count. But it would work.  _It would._

 

***

  
Another week passed. Then two. The Count now watched their progress, needier than the dogs with their attention. He would ask questions about how it would work; they would gladly respond if not for the focus needed to enchant such an object. More than once he left in a huff that caused his dog's hackles to rise and scamper off at his heels.

The silence was only a momentary comfort. He would be back again and again and again, awaiting his prize like a child watching the toymaker at work. If only the Magician could finish and finish quickly.

The third day of the third week came. It was an omen, they knew, just like the cards they sometimes read in their off hours for the servants and the guards. The arm would work without motion, on thought alone, just like the real thing. Gingerly, they touched it, feeling the cool metal beneath their fingers.

Lucio was summoned, fitted, and taught how to use it. The enchantment would only go so far. Like most magic, he had to will his ideas to become reality. With the Magician's instruction, it took far less time than they thought it would for him to master it. Before they knew it, he'd taken one of the blades from the hall, a fine thing with decorative gems in the hilt, and given it a practice swing. Then another. Before long he danced across the stone floor like he was born with the golden arm.

The Magician found themselves smiling at the display. Invigorated, he dropped it to the floor with a clatter, rounding on the Magician. In just a few strides he came before them, taking their face between his hands.

For a moment, the searing heat of his gaze was rivaled only by the one spreading across their cheeks. He leaned in close, his breath mingling with theirs. For a moment, they thought he meant to kiss them. But the touch was fleeting, gone as if he remembered who he was and who they were.

He left to show the courtiers and his wife his newest prize.

 

***

  
The Magician's memories escaped them like fireflies being let out of a jar. They forgot the time they spent in the palace. They forgot their service to the Count, but they know that he died.

A horrible death it was, on the eve of his own birthday, within his own chamber. Burned alive by a doctor sent to cure the illness that had taken hold of him.

But the Count doesn't forget them or the power that they wielded. He lingered on the peripheral, a specter rattling at chains and drumming up memories. He torments his wife, her staff, and the Magician within her home. Loud hooves frequently click past the Magician's door in the middle of the night. Back and forth, back and forth, until he seemed to tire at his own game.

The Magician frequently stole away to the fountain to seek out their friend. It was only when the conversation finished, and Asra vanished in the outward rippled that they turned and found him. In just a few short strides they were on them. They didn't try to run, fear locking them in place.

But they were spared from the hunt once more. However, the Count still needed them.

His hands spread, terrible clawed things in a cruel mockery of what they'd once been. For a moment the scene looked to be like the one that graced the dining room. The Magician swallowed, feeling the arid heat of his red gaze on them.

“Magician,” he said, his voice distorted. Some part of them noted that the goat's face he wore didn't move with the words. “Dear, dear magician.”

Mutely, they watched as the clawed hands clasped the sides of their face. For a moment it seemed familiar and strange all the same. Like he'd held their face once before, his thin lips close enough to brush theirs. Not the nightmare creature that pinned them now.

“I have need of you... again. Another favor.”

They nod, stunned into complacency. “W-what do you want?”

He leaned forward, the hot breath from his nostrils mingling with their own. “ _Bring me back_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a love/hate relationship with Lucio. Mostly I'm pretty taken with what happened to him and the mystery surrounding it. I've also had the idea of the Apprentice (who I changed to magician here for the sake of storytelling) has helped Lucio in the past with a myriad of things and then this monstrosity was born.
> 
> Nadia love is coming soon.


End file.
